The Fly (1986)

The Fly - ****
Dir: David Cronenberg
Starring: Jeff Goldblum, Geena Davis, John Getz
MPAA: R

I might as well start with one of my favorites. The story is fairly uncomplicated...scientist Seth Brundle (Goldblum) invents a device that allows him to transport matter from one place to another. He transports himself without realizing that a fly got into the telepod with him, and since the computer doesn't recognize them as separate beings, it combines them at a molecular level.

What follows is a gruesome, horrifying allegory for cancer, AIDS, or any other degenerative disease you can think of. As we watch Brundle's body break down (with the help of outstanding make-up effects courtesy of Chris Walas) we are forced to confront our own mortality, our own inevitable loss of control over our bodies. Even under heavy prosthetics, Goldblum is mesmerizing, able to convey brains and pathos in equal measure. Davis is well-matched with him as journalist and love interest Veronica Quaife, and Getz is a blast as her sleazy editor and former lover Stathis Borans, which may just be the greatest name in the history of movies. Seriously, say it with me: Stathis Borans!

The film is a remake of a 1958 creature-feature starring David Hedison and Vincent Price, and while the original's not a bad movie, Cronenberg's version is a masterpiece. I saw it for the first time on VHS when I was about 13, and I had already seen the original once or twice. In the original, Hedison emerges from the telepod with the head and claw of a fly, and has no further dialogue. I was shocked when Goldblum stepped out of the telepod looking no different than he did when he went in. By making the change happen gradually, Cronenberg and co-screenwriter Charles Edward Pogue lent a sense of tragedy to the story that elevates it from a simple monster movie to a harrowing story of loss.

Nobody does body horror quite like Cronenberg, and his clinical approach to the material grounds it in reality while also scaring the ever-lovin' shit out of you. In today's era of soulless cash-in remakes (I'm looking at you, Platinum Dunes) it's gratifying to remember that sometimes a remake truly can bring something fresh and exciting to the table, preserving the spirit of the original work without being a carbon copy.

Even 25 years later, the movie still has the power to captivate, horrify, and possibly make you throw up. How could you ask for more than that?